


The Weight of Tomorrow

by kokuou_ji



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, relatively tame smut warning for a few chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:27:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21743872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokuou_ji/pseuds/kokuou_ji
Summary: After so long distancing himself from romantic attachment and feelings, Lyrit takes a step he never thought he'd take again, towards someone who never thought he'd be the object of his biggest inspiration's affections.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Original Character(s), G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	1. Perhaps I, Perhaps We

**Author's Note:**

> **There will be some 5.0/Dark Knight questline/general story spoilers!**
> 
> This series of ficlets is going to be compiled together as I continue to delve into the self-indulgent writing out of a budding relationship and all of the development in character something like that entails. The Warrior of Darkness/Light in these fics is my WoL, a male xaela au ra named Lyrit Aibek. Height differences ahoy!

It felt bittersweet, knowing his War-- the Warrior of Darkness-- would be to leave through the portal to the Source in nigh on an hour. A pang of worry split through the Exarch’s chest, quickly stifled by the thought to not act so selfish, that he hadn’t even planned to live to see this moment. Whether Lyrit chose to return or not...it was not his choice to make, not this time. He had meddled enough in the fate of the savior of two worlds, and contented himself (as best one can content themselves when their most beloved may choose to never visit again) with the thought that he had completed his mission, more favorably than he could have thought possible considering the circumstances. It did well enough to tide his worrying mind as he breathed alone in the ambient hum of the Ocular.

He stood like this, looking at the house of his portal through the rift for a time, letting his memories flood in, a fond, but sad smile remaining on his features as he allowed his mind to wander. How he had waited for this, for his hero, his inspiration, to return. How he had waited to hear his voice again, to recall if it had always sounded so sweet, if perhaps he had always been so kind, so brave....and so burdened. Perhaps he had peered too far into Lyrit’s personal life through his occasional scrying, but it felt...odd, seeing the au ra so vulnerable. There had been nights where the Exarch simply wanted to see if Lyrit had returned to get a deserved rest and…

It was then his tail swished, agitated at himself for being so inconsiderate in his good-intentions (though they were innocent acts, it made them no-less so) and...hit something. A most undignified sound came from the Exarch as he leapt about a foot in the air, fluffing up and spinning around only to see the man occupying his thoughts standing there, with the faintest upturn of an amused smirk on his lips and in the tilt of his eyebrow. The Exarch knew not which was redder, his hair or his face, but meeting Lyrit’s pink gaze, intense as it ever was, wasn’t helping. He looked away, down at the much cooler-toned floor, and sputtered out a cough.

“P-perhaps I’m mistaken, but it is usually custom for people to announce themselves before entering a space not their own.”

There was no vocal response, but Lyrit’s hips shifted, and the Exarch flitted his focus back to Lyrit’s face only to see his amused smirk more prominent on his features. He hadn’t quite been the target of the Warrior of Darkness’ impish mischief prior to now, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he was upset or just as amused to personally experience this aspect of the man who so often seemed to fit beneath the mantle of hero too well. Amused won out, and the pout that had faintly graced the Exarch’s features softened into an unintentionally fond smile as he shook his head, a hand coming to rest on his hip as his defensive posture relaxed.

“Then again, who am I to say you’re a stranger to these halls? It may be unfair of me to assume so, considering you were the one who cleared this tower so very long ago. I daresay you may be more familiar with it than I, even in all my long years as its caretaker.”

“I’d be surprised if that were true,” came Lyrit’s reply, gesturing with one hand to the nearest walls of the Ocular, his voice nearly a hum. “You’re the one who made a home out of the tower.”

He...made a fair point, the Exarch conceded with a tilt of his head. “I imagine you didn’t come to the Ocular to debate whether or not you or I is more familiar with this place.”

A half-hearted shrug was the response, but the faint glimmer of...the Exarch couldn’t quite catch it, though he dared not hope it was what his heartbeat betrayed, tail swishing anxiously. Ever since their return to the Crystarium, he had been so hopelessly smitten...perhaps, with the threat of erasure from history gone, his mind had enough time to actually wander, to focus on ‘what if’ and no inevitablility to shoot it down. It had been a shame, so long ago, that the two of them hadn’t spent more time together.

“You seem to have an idea as to why I’m here.”

Torn from his wandering thoughts, the Exarch looked once again to Lyrit’s face, where he had very much missed the return of the amused smile, a focus in the au ra’s eyes that seemed to burn into him. He had the suspicion that Lyrit had read his cards, that perhaps despite not saying anything to betray himself, he had accidentally let his hand fall into view just enough. Lyrit was scarily perceptive, intuitive, and...well. He may have given the man reason prior to his currently flustered display to think he was...interested.

Woops.

Playing as coy as someone under such an analyzing stare would be able to, the Exarch nodded. “You’ve an appointment with Mistress Tataru shortly, if I recall correctly. Perhaps you simply wish to check in on your companions on the Source sooner than planned?”

The miqo’te, very unfortunately, couldn’t quite get a read on the initial flash of emotion that went through Lyrit’s eyes, but very much caught the ‘well played, G’raha Tia’ that followed as Lyrit once more shifted his posture, crossing his arms over his chest and letting a breath of air out through his nose. A small amount of regret bubbled up in his stomach at the (potential, he had to remind himself; potential but unlikely) missed opportunity, but the Exarch followed through by stepping aside, gesturing to the yet unopened portal.

“I shall begin my preparations, it should be but a moment.”

The moments of silence that followed as the Exarch began his work were...tense, and he could feel Lyrit’s gaze piercing him through his hair the entire time he worked until the quiet hum was broken by the smooth, melodic tones that comprised Lyrit’s voice, seeming almost to harmonize with the tower.

“I’ll come back, you know.”

The Exarch’s shoulders stiffened visibly, caught off-guard by the confession that brought an upwelling of tears to his eyes. He did not cry, no, but his vision blurred, a lump forming in his throat as he attempted to compose himself. His response came a little late, but how could it not when Lyrit practically sang the very words he wanted to hear to soothe his aching heart?

“I await your return then, Warrior of Darkness.”

The portal hummed to life, and the Exarch stepped aside to allow Lyrit passage. He kept his gaze down until he could see Lyrit’s tail swish as he strode, but as he looked up...their eyes met over Lyrit’s shoulder, and everything in him screamed to say something, to confess even one small thing, to make known even an ounce of his affections, but he could not. His voice failed him as his lips parted, taking in the emotion churning within Lyrit’s irises.

His heart stopped for a moment.

The words found him, then, as realization hit him, but his tongue was not quick enough to beat the shift in Lyrit’s posture, the small distance between the two of them (difference in height and all) closed almost as quickly as one would blink. They were close now, so close, as Lyrit kneeled before the Exarch, their faces but a breath away. Had his eyes always been such a dark teal beneath their bright pink borders? His hair had grown since they first reunited just outside the Crystarium, had changed so much more since their first meeting, and yet it suited him better than ever before. He had grown so much-- they both had, and now...a calloused, scarred hand caressed the Exarch’s cheek, and he could not help but to lean into its touch, his eyes falling closed despite his desire to take in every small detail of Lyrit’s face he hadn’t gotten to admire before. Lyrit was warm, so very warm, and in the cold air of the Ocular, he was like a sun.

“G’raha Tia.”

Ah.

The Exarch took in a shuddering breath, his eyelids fluttering open, pupils blown with his overflowing affections, feelings, desires...he was desperately trying to stifle them, but the proximity, the warmth, the way Lyrit’s melodic voice hummed his name, his true name (though he was not G’raha Tia anymore, the thought of Lyrit remembering him sent his heart into a frenzy)...oh, he couldn’t handle it. He shouldn’t be allowing this, shouldn’t be so selfish, but it wasn’t he who initiated this, and he was not about to deny his Warrior what he wanted. What they both wanted. He was fit to burst, and with every ounce of willpower he could muster, he managed a reply, soft, barely a sound in the space between them.

“Yes, my Warrior?”

Those eyes could kill a man, the Exarch thought to himself as he watched Lyrit’s own pupils expand and contract with the sound of the Exarch’s voice. They laid bare so much of the warrior no one knew, expressed more than anyone could ever hope to know, and though the Exarch counted himself among the masses in that regard...he began to have second thoughts about it being permanent. The emotion in Lyrit’s gaze was enough to drown him, it was so honest, so raw. It was, in fact, enough to distract him from the movement until Lyrit’s soft lips were on his own, kissing him with the gentleness one would never expect of a man whose legacy was written in blood, whose ferocity on the battlefield was used to inspire fear in even his allies.

The Exarch, eyes wide, couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening in time to return the kiss before Lyrit pulled away, lingering still in the close space. His face must’ve looked rather hilarious, because the grin that curled Lyrit’s lips was equal parts fond and definitely-trying-not-to-laugh. It was...well, breathtaking. The Exarch shook himself from his stupor, clearing his throat as his cheeks heated to what he definitely could assume was an ungodly crimson hue, licking his lips before attempting to speak.

“I...I see.”

The lift and furrow of Lyrit’s brow said all it needed to of his amusement, but he spoke anyway.

“You see, huh? Hm, good, because I thought I was pretty clear before on how I felt, but maybe you’re just dense.”

“D-dense? I--”

Lyrit’s laugh was like a gift. The way his eyes squinted, the way the corners of his mouth widened just so, the way his thumb gently stroked the Exarch’s cheek...he had freckles, the Exarch realized suddenly as he took in every little detail now, staring like a man with nothing else that mattered in the world to him, as if this universe was just the two of them. He couldn't help but smile himself, after the initial shock of what had happened finally faded to a reasonable level.

“I suppose I must be. Perhaps...perhaps, when you return, I can return this revelation you’ve gifted me with one of my own.”

The laugh in Lyrit’s voice remained as he nodded, lowering his hand and standing up once more.

“‘Til then, Exarch.”


	2. Warm Smile, Cold Snow

Lyrit was a very selfish man, the Exarch was quick to realize after the aforementioned au ra’s relatively swift return to the First as the two of them lazed around in the late evening after a particularly uneventful day. The company was not unwanted--rather, it was simply unexpected. How swiftly the Warrior of Darkness could become so accustomed to letting himself in was...well, it was a shock, for certain. It felt so intimate, but...it seemed the two of them were both rather starved for closeness. Their respective mantles weighed heavy, and while the most of the Exarch’s had been lifted, he was still a leader, and plenty busy with research besides.

A hum from Lyrit roused the Exarch from his idle musings, drawing his full attention to the man who lay beneath him, acting as both pillow and space heater in the chill of the tower. His head lifted from its spot on Lyrit’s chest, ears coming to attention from their very relaxed state. In the soft blue light of the room, the pinks of Lyrit’s eyes gave a faint glow, made his face look even warmer, more...enchanting. It was amazing how such a man could feel so much like a home the Exarch never knew he’d wanted, how surprisingly affectionate he was despite his general distaste towards showing his honest feelings. The Exarch didn’t mind, though. It made evenings like this so much easier.

Lyrit’s attention trailed to the Exarch, now looking at him with such a fond smile he couldn’t help a small roll of his eyes, but it was plain on his face and in the gentle caress of a hand through greying locks of hair, freed from busying itself with tinkering, that it was reciprocated. The curl of his lips affirmed such a reading, and the contented hum of his voice made the Exarch’s stomach flutter.

“You seemed pretty intense.” _Something on your mind?_

The words were unspoken, but after a few weeks of more intimate familiarity with the au ra’s silent language, it was easy to pick up on his face and in the motion of his fingers through the Exarch’s hair. After a brief moment, the Exarch shook his head, readjusting to a more comfortable position propped up on the much larger man’s chest, chin resting on his arms.

“I was simply musing to myself that, despite being such a self-proclaimed expert on your history, I realize I know not how, nor where, you grew up.” A raise of Lyrit’s brow told that he caught the mostly-lie, and showed his amusement at the self-given title, but he said nothing, and so the Exarch continued. “It seems you must have kept such things very close to you, and while I mean not to pry…”

Lyrit chuckled, soft, through his nose and deep in his chest, drawing the Exarch’s full attention to the here and now through the warmth that radiated from him. His expression spoke nigh on nothing but fondness, and it took everything the Exarch had not to just kiss him until neither of them could speak.

“It’s really not anything scandalous. Honestly the more exciting parts of my life have been recently.”

“It makes me no less curious.”

The quirk of Lyrit’s lips betrayed his pleasant surprise at the Exarch’s asking, and his hand carded down silver hair to a soft cheek, cupping it with a tenderness still so very surprising to the Exarch. Once more, a hum escaped Lyrit’s throat, thoughtful, musing. I didn’t expect you to come forward and ask.

“This is going to be a lot of talking for me, y’know.”

The Exarch’s eyes lit up at that, unable to be stifled quickly enough, and made Lyrit chuckle once more. How such a small thing could make his heart soar, the Exarch did not know, but if Lyrit was entrusting him with whatever his past entailed...well. It meant more than he could convey, even if it seemed that Lyrit knew just how much it meant. He was terrifyingly intuitive, after all, and without the cowl he had used previously to hide his face, his soul was laid bare before that intense gaze, especially at such a level and close proximity.

“I, for one, look forward to hearing your voice weave me a tale no other bard could weave.” A soft chuckle followed the Exarch’s words, before a nostalgic smile and a blush took his features. “Perhaps it is the boy within me stirring at the opportunity to hear a tale of the hero he so admired. Time has made a sentimental fool of me, but it changes not the fact that your voice carries songs I could listen to for the rest of my days with the utmost contentment.”

A faint flush dusted Lyrit’s cheeks at the honesty in the Exarch’s words, and served only to widen, and lighten, the smile on the miqo’te’s lips. It wasn’t easy to get the Warrior of Darkness to blush, and so this was an accomplishment of the highest degree, one he would commit to memory. Lyrit, after a few moments, simply shook his head, a warm but defeated sigh escaping his lips.

“Alright, alright. Back where I grew up, in Coerthas, I didn’t get to go outside much. Mom never felt like it was safe enough, which...it wasn’t. Ishgard was still fighting their war, and she’d seen enough of her people go missing. She didn’t want her kids to go, too. Dad--well, he wasn’t my actual dad, but he raised me and my brothers--he understood. He helped us more than we ever realized, at least until I went to Ishgard much later. He gave us a place to stay, to be safe, y’know.”

The Exarch shifted himself, allowing his arms a moment to circulate, nodding along. He didn’t often get to hear Lyrit’s melodic voice for so long all at once, and opted not to speak up lest he discourage the usually rather vocally reserved warrior. Lyrit began to idly comb his fingers through the Exarch’s hair once again, lulling him into a content daze, though his focus on Lyrit’s voice and the way his lips moved was still razor-sharp.

“And I grew up with stories of dragoons. Powerful knights, who showed up on the battlefield and brought hope with them. They empowered people to fight. Leaping through the skies with ease, with lances sharp enough to cut even the tough scales of a dragon. It’s hard growing up with those kinds of heroic tales and not wanting to be one yourself. So, I committed them to memory, and I think those stories inspired me to go to Gridania, much later, to learn how to wield a lance. Because by the time I left home, I realized I couldn’t just go to Ishgard. Some dragon-looking guy they’ve never seen before walking in from the mountains? They’d kill me on sight. So I went to Gridania, and the rest you know.”

Humming, the Exarch nodded once more, keeping himself awake by moving his attention up to Lyrit’s eyes, watching him with an affectionate heaviness, laced with the weight of remembering and sharing something never truly shared. It was...an interesting expression, to say the least, and the Exarch filed it away.

“What was your mother like?”

The subtle shift in expression on Lyrit’s face made the Exarch regret asking, but before he could open his mouth to insist that he need not answer, the warrior had already begun.

“Kind. She always had a song for everything. The tribe she was from, the Qualli, speak in songs, and she taught me all I know about singing. She taught me dancing, too, but our house was small, and it wasn’t easy to do. She always said I looked like how she pictured Nhaama, that she had this feeling I’d be a part of something big--”

He stopped there, and the Exarch decided that it was better not to pry any further into her life or her memory, not now. He instead nodded, smiling politely as he thanked Lyrit for sharing what he had. The relief that briefly flashed through Lyrit’s eyes nearly made the Exarch’s heart burst with how much he felt, but he kept to himself. There was nothing to be done, nothing he could say to ease any lingering pain, and so patience was his best option. And the most respectful besides.

It was quiet then, for a short time, with nothing but Lyrit’s fingers in the Exarch’s hair, the steady breathing between the two of them. The space was so content, in fact, that the Exarch began to doze off, unable to fight the lull that the gentle pull of Lyrit’s nails gave him, but it was not that he truly succumbed to. No, it was the humming that came from deep in Lyrit’s chest, a song familiar to the Exarch, and yet just unfamiliar enough to not cause the reaction he would have when he later awoke. A lullaby of his own making, for the very man who now sang it to him, that he had not realized Lyrit overheard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Three Words

Lakeland was its most beautiful in the early morning; the gentle sounds of the breeze rolling in over the lake through lavender boughs and the light song of birds drifted in through the open window. Pale was the sky still as night rolled on to make way for the morrow, the soft rays of light only just peeking over the range of mountains, and in that pastel light bright, crimson eyes turned their attention to the form sleeping quietly beside them. This was perhaps the only time the Exarch would awake before Lyrit, he thought to himself as a warm smile he couldn't contain curled his lips, fondness upwelling in his eyes. His hand lifted, his fingertips caressing Lyrit's pale cheek, moving stray locks of silken hair from their unruly places caught on the rough texture of the black scales.

A soft, overly-fond breath exhaled through the Exarch's nose as he shifted a little closer, relishing in the comforting heat from his beloved Warrior, the faint smell of metal, crisp winter pine, smoke--the smell of home--drawing his eyes more lidded as contentment welled in his stomach. The passing thought that this may merely be a dream crossed his mind as the two lay there in stillness for a few minutes, but the very real shift of Lyrit's body, the soft noise from his throat and the ghost of a smile on his lips as his head turned just a little closer, alleviated any doubts of the reality of this. He was truly awake here, in this moment, experiencing three very impossible things, all made possible by one person. The very man he so admired, the man who he would have died for had all gone to plan…

"I love you," the Exarch's gentle voice, but a breath, admitted to his still slumbering companion. Another impossibilty, something he had come to terms with ever since the two's encounter once more on the First. Something that had not been said, something he kept to himself in the fear that perhaps such strong words of devotion would scare off whatever intimacy he had shared with the Warrior of Darkness, a man not known to have committed to any one person, and a man who by all rights had many, innumerable suitors, perhaps better suited for him, perhaps…

And yet, this was the reality of it. The Exarch had fallen in love, irrevocably. 

At a glance, Lyrit's lips looked almost to curl into a proper smile, but the Exarch was unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him. To be safe, his hand, which had paused its curled fingers against Lyrit's cheek, finished the stroke it began, and made to return to the Exarch's side. The pale light of the dawn curved over Lyrit's form in a manner that nearly glowed, leading along the Exarch's gaze as he allowed himself to appreciate the moment just a bit longer, content in his place at Lyrit's side.

"Isn't that something you should say to someone who's awake to hear it, Raha?"

Lyrit's soft, soft song of a voice broke the stillness with an absurd amount of grace, even despite the sleep that still heavied its tone. The Exarch's eyes widened, ears at attention and then very flat. If there were a shade of red deeper than the miqo'te's eyes, his cheeks would be that color, and he knew not if it was from the fact Lyrit had absolutely heard him and had been awake this whole time, or from the use of his name. His true name, the name used only by those closest to him. His fur stood on end.

"Th-that--! Ah, I mean, perhaps, but-- i-it isn't something one simply admits--!"

Lyrit's eyes slowly opened, his piercing, bright gaze making the Exarch's heart stop for a moment in his chest that really truly felt ready to burst. Everything in him wanted to look away, to break their contact, perhaps out of sheepish embarrassment, perhaps out of preparation for the inevitable, but he couldn't do it. His vision was fixed, captive by the icy teal that had surfaced after the Light threatened to shatter Lyrit's soul. But he had admitted it. He had, and why?

Why, indeed?

A few moments of quiet passed between them, Lyrit's gaze unmoving, unyielding, holding the Exarch in place with no effort expended. Neither one stirred, the only motion between the two being the rise and fall of their chests. What answer was he to give? The look Lyrit held him with wouldn't miss the doubt, the worry, and yet he still wanted to avoid admitting such things. And yet, were he to withhold it…

"...I was all but certain I was dreaming, lying here beside you like this. I never anticipated I would get the opportunity, so you must forgive me for admitting something so personal--"

Suddenly, strong arms were around him, and the small space between closed so very easily as Lyrit pulled the two together, eliciting a noise of surprise. Warmth, the warmth of the au ra's skin was so very soothing, centering, grounding. There was a pause as the Exarch took in the act that had quickly silenced him.

"Well, get used to it," Lyrit murmured against the Exarch's chest, against his beating heart, in a tone so faint and so emotionally open he swore it would've never come from the esteemed Warrior of Darkness. It made his heart swell.

Quiet followed. Lyrit remained there, pressed firmly against the Exarch's chest, and once the shock and embarrassment wore off, an extraordinarily fond smile came to his lips, his hand raising to card through Lyrit's hair. Over, and over, gentle strokes that nearly lulled even he back to dreams, but he wouldn't fall back asleep now. This moment was too good, and he still had an unanswered question lingering even despite his contentment with Lyrit's claim.

"I...I suppose I shall, then, endeavor to be used to it. But, might I ask what exactly it is that I'm getting used to?"

The au ra stirred, nuzzling his nose against skin and tendrils of crystal for good measure before moving back just enough to meet the two's gazes, sleep still heavy on his eyelids, his emotions fully unguarded. It nearly floored the Exarch at how much admiration came from just a look, how much...how much emotion he held there within his irises.

"That I love you."

There was nothing in all of the worlds that could have prepared the Exarch, leader and founder of the last bastion of hope in Norvrandt, traveller of time and space, hero of the First, for that confession. Nothing. His body froze up, his mouth agape, his eyes wide, hand paused mid-stroke. Had he stopped breathing? He wasn't sure.

After staying like that for a few moments, Lyrit's mouth turned to a wide smile, and in the light of the morning, he looked radiant. It brought the tears welling in the Exarch's eyes to full, and a couple fell loose from their place on his lashes, pulling him from his shock. He blinked a few times, freeing more tears from their place, and a laugh bubbled up from his throat as Lyrit kissed the streaks of water from his cheeks.

"F-forgive me, I just-- I never thought I would hear such words from your lips. To be...to be loved by you is a dream I never believed I would experience."

"You're a dense fool, Raha."

Lyrit's smile widened following his comment before their lips met, so slow and tender, so very filled with emotion, and the Exarch melted more and more into each subsequent kiss as they kept coming, his hands holding, grabbing Lyrit's hair, thumbing the scales of his cheek. The au ra's hands, in turn, held delicately the small of the Exarch's back, just above the base of his tail, and with this hold he rolled over so that the miqo'te lay atop his chest. _I love you_ , Lyrit whispered against the Exarch's lips, _I love you_ , Lyrit whispered against the Exarch's cheek, _I love you_ , Lyrit whispered into the fur of the Exarch's ear. With each, the Exarch's heart swelled, a laugh bubbling for every confession.

As their faces parted and their eyes met once again, the Exarch could not help but speak, continuing his gentle caress of Lyrit's cheek, relishing in the mingling of their heartbeats in the quiet room. His voice accompanied the ambience with soft tones, whispered like a secret to be kept in this moment, eyes looking over Lyrit's features with a reverence reserved only for the divine.

"I could very much get used to this, I think. I would be lying if I said I didn't think often of your lips, of how you taste, of what it feels like to awaken next to you…"

"With that tone, you'd think I wasn't here."

"Ah, I didn't mean it to sound like that, it's only that--"

"Once again, you're a dense fool, Raha. I don't just go sleeping with anybody."

"I-I never said--!"

A kiss silenced him effectively, muffling the protest that would have followed with ease as the miqo'te ruffled himself up. It didn't take long for him to become a very malleable putty again, though, which was when Lyrit released his captured lips with an amused smile, chuckling softly at the pout that graced the Exarch's lips.

"Only you." _Only you have me._

That was all the Exarch needed as the pout faded and his expression lit up, peppering his beloved Warrior's face with kisses until the sun rose higher, and higher, and the hum of the city began to filter through the window.


	4. A Vow, to You, my Love

A fond sigh comes from the Exarch’s lips, curled into an impossibly soft smile. “I’m certain you’ve been told as much countless times before, but you truly are a bastion of hope for the people. I’ve confessed that you are the star by which I’ve charted my course before, but with recent events, I’d be surprised if more did not follow.”

“It’s just what the mantle I wear demands,” Lyrit shrugs, the words so casual the Exarch could swear that it wasn’t much a mantle at all...but he knew better, and Lyrit knew he knew better, so he continued. “Not that I mind. I do like being the center of attention, anyway.”

This elicits a chuckle, and Lyrit strikes a lazy pose, shaking his head shortly after and relaxing his hand once more on his hip. Such light-hearted conversation seems ill-fitting after the venture he’d just returned from, but neither of them mind. Being able to speak easily is a luxury afforded to them by the privacy of the rooms past the Ocular, the Exarch’s more homely section of the massive structure of Syrcus Tower. 

“If such titles are but demands, what then would _you_ fight for, were you given a choice?”

The question gives Lyrit pause, and the Exarch’s tail thumps against the counter behind him where his kettle steeps tea. Perhaps nervous, perhaps a little eager to hear the answer, Lyrit isn’t entirely sure, but the sound gives his lips a smile as he lets out a breath of a chuckle. An idea strikes him, and he takes a few steps toward the Exarch, around the table in the center of the little kitchen area. It seems to get the Exarch’s full attention, because he can’t help the pace of his tail quite, but it’s endearing. 

“I guess as a knight and a dragoon, I have an investment in the safety of people who can’t defend themselves. As an entertainer, I have an investment in learning new stories, and new dances. But, I suppose if I were going to pick something more personal...I would pick a person. Just one. Someone who could make the entire world know their name and their deeds. Someone who is a true hero, a true leader of people,”

Lyrit kneels then, placing a hand over his quickly-beating heart, closing his eyes as he continues to speak uninterrupted for what might be the longest he’s spoken in weeks.

“That’s you, Raha.” There’s a brief pause, a breath taken in. Lyrit lifts his chin to look up, and he doesn’t need to look far to see the Exarch’s face, lips parted in a complicated mix of shock, guilt, and happiness, ready to speak their own piece, but Lyrit continues. “I would fight for your cause, like all of the other knights and archers you have at your disposal. I would stay here, at the Crystarium, on the First, to help this world recover. To see through the efforts you’ve expended. To watch, by your side, as you lead these people to a happier tomorrow. If I had a choice, I would pledge myself to no other cause.”

There’s a fire in Lyrit’s eyes, and the Exarch’s stunned speechless, staring with a hand raised to his own chest. He looks like he’s fighting the urge to shed tears, his vivid, crimson eyes glassy with the threat of them spilling. Lyrit holds him in his gaze for a few moments, before he closes his eyes once more and bows his head. The Exarch can’t see the fingers he curls against his chest, or the frown that comes to his lips.

“I would be your sword, if you would have me.”

The Exarch’s voice is almost hollow as he lets out a chuckle, and Lyrit slowly looks up to see him holding his crystalline hand. Their eyes meet, and he’s smiling, but there’s a pain in his expression that Lyrit reads all-too-easily. It’s much in the same vein as his own, and his gaze falters a little, back to the Exarch’s hands, just within reach. He lifts his hand, gently moving it between the Exarch’s two, and the miqo’te holds it with a gentle firmness, his smile widening.

“Fate is a cruel mistress, is she not?”

For a moment, Lyrit is confused, and shifts his gaze back up to the Exarch’s lips, and then his eyes, and that’s when he understands even before the Exarch continues.

“Many and more people are in need of your efforts for me to so selfishly accept such a vow, even were I able to do so. I’ve taken you once from a world in need of you, I would sooner not do so again...even after painting such an inspirational picture of someone like me. Truly, it’s rather hard to argue against such praise, especially coming so assuredly from the lips of the esteemed Warrior of Darkness.”

The confession comes painfully, and Lyrit’s fingers tighten their curl around the Exarch’s crystal hand, sending the faintest current of magic through it. It seems to at least give the Exarch’s smile a less somber undertone, as well as its glow effect, and he leans down to place a soft kiss to Lyrit’s lips. For once, he is blessedly short enough to do so, and Lyrit can’t help the passing thought that he ought to do this more before the Exarch pulls away with a final kiss to Lyrit’s nose and forehead, shaking his head as he stands straighter.

“I must truthfully admit, however, the thought is rather tempting. To have such a vaunted warrior at my beck and call…’tis something many yearn for and few ever achieve. And...I must also admit...I am rather fond of this. You’re much easier to reach kneeling before me, and where I usually curse my shorter stature, it makes kissing you at this height blessedly simple.”

“Is that all?” Lyrit’s tone is amused, bubbling faintly with laughter. For someone to confess being at a distance to reach for a kiss is a main benefit of having the Warrior of Darkness as their personal weapon...it lightens Lyrit’s heart a little more than it has any right to. The Exarch must notice this, because his sheepish smile widens and he laughs at himself.

“Rather simple a reason, I know, but it truly is a benefit, I assure you. You are so...damnably tall when you stand, it can make surprising you rather complicated.”

“I’m not stopping you from telling me to kneel, y’know.”

“There isn’t much surprise in it if I have to ask beforehand, is there?”

“I guess not, but I’m not stopping you anyway.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, then, my love. Perhaps I’ll have use of it yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't like a little knight's pledge, especially when it concerns someone as regal as the Exarch?
> 
> Thank you for stopping by and reading! <3


	5. To Steal a Reunion

"I hate to admit, I'm in a rush. But since you know where I stay, visit me tonight." _Please._

The Crystal Exarch was not prepared for the unspoken plea in his beloved Warrior's poise, nor was he prepared for the overwhelming air of longing that lingered heavily in the Ocular after Lyrit's heeled footsteps muffled beyond the door. The taste of the kiss given to him prior to Lyrit's departure was ever on his mind since its happening, thoughts of the gentle softness of Lyrit's lips charging every fancy, and yet still the Exarch faltered under the enormity of such a small act. It set his heart aflame.

But this...implication, caught so easily in the au ra's usually very guarded and careful words, was…

The pounding of the Exarch's heart echoing through his chest, heat rising to his cheeks, had him pause at the door to the suite he had once so generously paid for, and now had nothing to do with. The citizens gave it to their Warrior of Darkness in the wake of the night's return, a small token of their appreciation to him, and while normally such a passing thought would make the Exarch smile fondly, now it only served to add fuel to the flame in his stomach. This was _his_ room, _**Lyrit's**_ room, no longer a borrowed commodity gifted to him by a stranger in a strange land. This was his home away from home, so personal and intimate he hadn't set foot within even prior to its re-gifting.

A crystalline hand hesitated at the handle. What if his nerves were for nothing? What if he had misread the look Lyrit drowned him in? Perhaps...and yet, he was invited, and still had to uphold his vow to come clean and bequeath to Lyrit his own revelations that the kiss had illuminated.

With a deep, steadying breath and a nod for courage, the Exarch brought his free hand up and knocked once, twice, before the door opened and before him stood a very composed Lyrit.

...wearing his armor, still, or at least most of it, an outfit that could only be described as divine. 

The Exarch swallowed, offering his host a gentle, but still nervous smile, gesturing at his ensemble.

"You must have but just returned from your outing, I do apologize for coming so early. If you need a moment--"

A shake of Lyrit's head and the ensuing embrace the miqo'te was swept into told him much, and silenced his voice effectively. It took a moment for him to return the gesture, and he marvelled at how such armor as this was surprisingly smooth, more comfortable to be held against than its daunting spikes and sharp shapes let on. A red ear twitched contentedly against the bared skin of Lyrit's chest, exuding such warmth that the Exarch turned his chin up to see what possibly could be so warm in the cool air of the Norvrandt night, which was also when his host slowly released him and took but a half a step back, gesturing for him to come in.

The Exarch nodded, starting a little at the realization that he had indeed not entered the room fully, and righted the situation, closing the door carefully behind him. He felt almost like...like he was young again, a man after the finer things in life, simple pleasures, and yet so molded by his century of living for one purpose, ready to die for his hero, was he that such a feeling felt forbidden. Like something he was not allowed to feel again.

Suddenly, he became aware of the gaze Lyrit was fixing him with, and as he made to look up at him, the exposed window of skin on his thighs caught his attention, so pale compared to the ebony metal of his armor, so...soft, so untouchable. It stuttered the movement of crimson eyes for but a moment before the Exarch came to his senses and met Lyrit's eyes, only to be levelled by the raw emotion within. He was enraptured, frozen in place and in time, by the intensity. He felt...hunted. Exposed, like a mouse between a lion's paws, like if he made even one, small movement, it would be over.

And then Lyrit's gaze shifted, quieted down, in the blink of an eye, and the breath the Exarch had been holding escaped through lips he hadn't known were parted. The ferocity, the...hunger, in the au ra's usually composed expressions was gone, if only for a moment, and the Exarch could only count himself lucky that he was friend and not foe. Such a display was reserved for battle typically, he knew, as he had fought alongside Lyrit before, and knew his strength as inspiring of both fear and courage.

The Exarch cleared his throat, adjusting the collar of his more casual robes.

"I-if I may, has something happened?"

Lyrit's eyes widened just a little, realization coloring his cheeks ever so slightly. "Ah, no, apologies. It's just been a long time away."

A pause, the Exarch taken with watching his Warrior's subtle shifts in posture. He was more...open, than usual, and yet still so closed off.

"...you intended to show me a revelation, G'raha?"

The use of his name snapped the miqo'te's attention easily to Lyrit's face, rather embarrassingly quickly, and his cheeks reddened. The Exarch quickly lowered his gaze once more, ears down.

"Ah, y-yes, though if your day has been long, I assure you it--"

The proximity was enough in and of itself to warm down to one's bones, but grew warmer yet as a clawed hand lifted, bringing the Exarch's face up to once again meet their eyes. It was so gentle, and yet so forceful, a product of careful control and...something else. It was permeating the air between them, that something else, charged and wild and _enticing_. That young feeling within him, the scholar of Sharlay, wanted to know more, to pursue this something.

It was then that the tone of Lyrit's question registered with the context of the static between them, with the newly recognized ambience of the room, and the Exarch could only muster a breathless " _ **oh**_ " before Lyrit's lips parted once more.

"I'd like to know what it is, if you're willing to share."

It took a moment for the Exarch to collect himself, swallowing thickly. His heart was thumping so loudly it pounded in his ears and he was sure Lyrit could feel it, but Lyrit's hand remained, holding him with that gentle force, before he thumbed a ghost of a touch over the Exarch's cheek and retreated a few paces back. His posture once more held that careful, practiced aloofness, making his Warrior once more untouchable. It was perhaps too much to hope that the honest openness, no matter how intense, would stay, but part of the Exarch was relieved that the overwhelming pressure had gone back in check. He was nervous enough as it was. And...incredibly turned on.

...he was asking permission.

The realization dawned on him as he focused on the curve of Lyrit's thin waist, and his body froze, pupils wide. His heart skipped a beat.

If it was permission he was looking for, the Exarch decided in the moment following, as his eyes met Lyrit's once more, then he would test it. He would take a page from his hero's book, use his body to convey more than his words.

"...yes."

Lyrit stiffened, looking the Exarch up and down, reading his every ilm for the accompaniment to his one-word reply. The miqo'te laid bare his revelation in his bright, red eyes, overflowing now with such adoration and love...tainted only by the desire churning in his chest, untamed save for the practiced caution of a leader of people, so long ago forgotten in the weight of his mission. His fingers were tense, wanting only to touch, to hold, held back. The taut tension in his body as he watched Lyrit look him over pooled in his stomach, warm and wild, and he was fit to burst before, but knowing that perhaps he was _right_ , that this unruly feeling might be mutual…

_**Th-thumk--** _

A gasp was all the Exarch could manage as his back hit the closed door before Lyrit's lips collided with his, so full of want and need and everything burst at once, tension snapping like a storm's release. A low moan sounded softly from the Exarch's throat, his hands lifting to grab hold of pieces of armor to anchor him as his head spun and everything fell into place. Lyrit's kisses were ferocious, but so full of love that it left the Exarch dizzy as his host parted for air, the two of them gasping for breath in the quiet room. He almost couldn't focus on the look Lyrit held him with, but as his vision came to, he was once more reminded of just how _beautiful_ his beloved Warrior was.

"I thought you were going to _show_ me that revelation, G'raha."

The Exarch's breath hitched at the tone his name left Lyrit's throat in, sung so quietly that if they hadn't been nearly sharing the same space, it would be inaudible. His fingers twitched at the implication the inflection of Lyrit's words left hanging in the air. Perhaps...perhaps he could afford to be selfish, this once. After all, his hero, his most beloved, was practically _begging_ with that look in his eyes--wanting, lustful, impish as it was--with that curve on his lips, the way his scaled tail swayed at a just-unreachable distance, even despite their faces being so close. For once, the Exarch cursed Lyrit's height as he became more aware of the distance between them, compensation for their lips being but a breath away.

Scarlet eyes flitted towards the bed just to the right, and Lyrit's followed suit. Their eyes met again, and, unspoken agreement made, the Exarch began to gently lead Lyrit toward it. He wasn't entirely sure where the wave of confidence came from, but the two did not break eye contact, even when the couple of steps leading to the bed were reached and traversed with ease. A dancer's steps were always deliberate, as they say, and the practiced tilt of Lyrit's hips in time with his backsteps told the Exarch the truth of that statement...as well as did a number on his already frantic, heated, wandering mind. Oh how he must look beneath the layers of fabric that dared to obscure him--

A soft sound came from the bed as Lyrit's still-armored calves bumped against the frame, and the Exarch was torn from his thoughts. Ah, they had reached it, and yet Lyrit remained standing, looking down at the Exarch with an intentioned hunger as his hands raised to take hold of the miqo'te's, guiding his fingers over smooth armor to the buckles that held the leather and metal together, leading his thumbs to the fastens--

Oh.

Words did not form cohesively on the Exarch's tongue, and so instead of staring dumbfoundedly at his guide, he began to undo the holds on the armor. Began to...to _undress_ the Warrior of Darkness-- _his_ Warrior of Darkness. If there were doubts, this moment scattered them to the four winds, the lingering touch of Lyrit's fingers on the Exarch's hands as he worked doing all the assuring that needed to be done, and nothing to say of the intense gaze he was fixed with as he worked. It was slow, as the Exarch had little practice in the donning of armor, but the pace only served to add heat to the air, recharge the static between them. By the time the clasps had come undone and the armor loosened enough for Lyrit to gracefully slide out of, all the Exarch wanted was to feel his skin. His stomach was in knots, built-up tension coiled tightly, ready to snap as soon as the armor was safely moved away.

And yet, as the moonlight filtered through the open window looking out over the mountains of Lakeland, catching Lyrit's pale, exposed skin in its shimmering rays, the Exarch could only stare. Even despite it all, all the want and need built within him, he could not move.

"You are...breathtaking."

His words came from his lips as a breath, never intended to be said aloud. A prayer, worship to the ethereal being standing exposed before him. The Exarch chanced to trail his eyes up, committing to memory the forms of Lyrit's body, the subtle movements of muscle beneath his skin, the shallow breaths coming to and from his chest. And his lips, how beautiful, how alluring they were, parted just enough to bring about the Exarch's total ruin. And his eyes...oh, how they made him feel.

"I'm yours."

That was all it took. A caught breath, a skipped heartbeat, and all the tension released in a swift push of Lyrit onto the bed, the Exarch straddling his waist and ravishing the au ra's tantalizing lips with so much fervor it drew a nigh forbidden noise of pleasure and surprise from Lyrit's throat, swallowed hungrily by the Exarch, now very, very determined to pull more such noises from the man beneath him. Lyrit's hands clawed their way up beneath the Exarch's robes, nails digging into his thighs, holding them as desperately as the Exarch's fingers clung to Lyrit's hair, his cheeks, moving carefully around the horns. The texture of the scales was...different than the Exarch would have expected, tough almost like a hide, and thicker than the skin, but as a place of more resistance it allowed him to push, to drag his nails, and it was welcome. The ties that held Lyrit's hair in its usual ponytail rolled off at the desperate, hungry force pushing fingers through his hair, letting the locks fall loosely onto the bed in a mess of black and gray. The lack of resistance there, against the silky texture, was welcome.

Panting and gasping for breath, and so very stifled beneath his still-very-clothed body, the Exarch sat himself upright, looking down at the man prone between his legs. It was a sight he dreamt of many a time, thought, of course, only to remain a dream, and yet…

He could not help the idle trailing of his fingertips, crystalline and flesh, over Lyrit's chest as he took in the sight before him, relishing in the small movements as his fingers ghosted over sensitive places, over scars that had not yet faded. A soft hum came from his lips, a warm, thoughtful smile curling the corners.

"I always thought you so unattainable, so far from someone such as myself, and yet your body is so tangible, so _real_ beneath my fingertips. I do not know how this can be, how you and I are here, nor what fate decided to allow me such a blessing...but I do not deny that this has been my wish for as long as I can remember. Oh, how I have wanted this, desired to know just how you felt, what songs you would sing for me in your beautiful voice as I made you undone."

At this, Lyrit's breath hitched, claws digging into the Exarch's thighs. It tore at his focus as a not-displeased hiss slid through his teeth, muddled his mind, sent his tail lashing beneath the lay of his robes, but he was intent on indulging this fantasy so long as Lyrit remained beneath him. It took nearly all of his willpower to muster any control over his own voice.

"I would know you, Lyrit. I would know your songs that I may sing along, know your pleasure that I may share in its rapture. I would mark what is mine to take, touch what is mine to know...if you'll permit me."

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the labored breathing between them as the Exarch stared intently at the pink rings of Lyrit's eyes, aglow with so much unfettered longing that the Exarch, entranced by such emotion, nearly missed the reply hummed hoarsely through Lyrit's lips.

"You talk too much, Exarch. I told you I was yours." _And I would deny you **nothing** you desired._

The unspoken words, conveyed through the sharpening of the look in Lyrit's eyes, was what did the Exarch in. His ferocity overtook him once more, that primal hunger, brought his hands free of their place on Lyrit's face to undo his own fastenings on his robes. An endeavor which, thankfully, Lyrit was more than happy to assist with, and in nearly no time the garments were free from their host, strewn somewhere on the floor at the side of the bed by Lyrit's feet. And it was at this turn that Lyrit had a brief moment to stare, catching the glimmer of light on the sharp pattern of crystal winding partway over the Exarch's torso, before the miqo'te began kissing and biting and sucking on the skin of the man he admired most, pulling from him small gasps, little sounds of pleasure that only served to add to the heat. Each sound made his ears twitch with delight, every bite grew more desperate, less careful, in an attempt to draw out more sounds, more movements, until Lyrit's hips bucked and the friction reminded the Exarch very, very acutely that there was more to worry over than such simple marks. Suddenly, he was very aware of the fact he still wore pants, that Lyrit, too, had not removed his lower garments, and his assault on Lyrit's lips and neck and chest stopped.

The Exarch hissed as he lifted himself more upright, one hand on Lyrit's chest for leverage as the other moved to remove his pants, before he stopped abruptly, realizing exactly what it was that he was intending to do. He twitched beneath the fabric, and a soft moan caught in his throat.

His eyes locked to Lyrit's then, and as his lips parted to ask if this truly was alright, to once again confirm that this was not just a cruel dream, he felt clawed fingers at his hips before he was lifted up with ease, eliciting an undignified yelp of surprise as his position shifted from Lyrit's waist to his chest. It was then he realized that--

Ah.

Oh.

The sound of chain sliding down metal before hitting the tile floor told him all he needed to know, and the flush from his exertions deepened to a nearly dizzying shade of red. He wanted to look, but instead kept his focus on Lyrit's face, focusing on the expression that lay there, bared for him to see. No mask, no hiding, no inhibitions.

His tail brushed the hard arousal that now sat exposed to the air, and if there was any sound, any feeling he knew he could not even begin to imagine, it was the surprised movement of Lyrit beneath him, the overwhelmed, desperate groan that escaped from his lips.

His body, thusfar unmarred aside from the scrapes on his thighs, would assuredly not remain so for long. Lyrit's deft, hungry, powerful hands were very sure of that as he clawed at the Exarch's sides, his back, his neck, undoing the loose braid at the back of his head. Graying crimson locks fell with ease over the Exarch's shoulders, giving Lyrit's fingers purchase to pull him into what was definitely the most impassioned, hungry kiss either of them had ever had, teeth clacking and noises of pleasure being swallowed with no thought. The Exarch's position on Lyrit's chest was...impractical, but the loud thumping of the au ra's heart could be felt easily between the Exarch's legs, pooling more and more heat in his stomach. It was almost too much, almost, and with some effort the miqo'te pulled himself free of the ravaging onslaught of Lyrit's lips to reposition himself lower, lower, until he could feel the edges of the bed with his feet and safely slide himself off on shaking legs to kneel on the floor between his Warrior's.

Lyrit followed, propping himself up on his elbows, a quizzical and confused furrow to his brow before the Exarch gently, and with an admirable amount of control, took Lyrit's length in his hand, and _**oh**_ the primal song that tore from his beloved's throat at the touch was enough alone to do the Exarch in. But he abstained, kept himself from release. It was too early, and though it had been so very long since he had partaken in such pleasures, he had enough control to win over his own instinct. The mesmerizing feeling of Lyrit bucking into his palm, the part of Lyrit's mouth as he watched the Exarch's expressions shift, eyes dilate, watched him perform his work...it was better than any dream he had experienced. Better than any hope he could have dared to hope. He quickened his pace, feeling against him the tension building, and--

"G-G'raha--!"

That. That was enough, and suddenly all of the warmth in his stomach spilled forth in a white-hot ecstasy, their two voices in silent harmony. And once the vision returned, the Exarch was met with a trembling Lyrit, covered in his own mess, barely even able to hold himself upright as he was. He was disheveled, ragged, the tiredest the Exarch had ever seen him, but…

"You are beautiful."

It was all he could think to say, in the moment, as he stared, awestruck, at the man who carried the fates of two worlds, carried the hopes and dreams of countless souls, completely undone. He was rewarded with one of the most genuine smiles he'd ever seen, filled with such love, such relief, so much it made the Exarch's heart fit to burst. And then Lyrit fell back, let his head hit the bed, chest still heaving as he attempted to catch his breath.

The Exarch decided then to join him, sticky as he was, and...realized he, too, was...well. A mess. His pants had not come off, and he could feel the uncomfortable dampness already, so when he stood himself on very unsteady legs, he tore himself free of his soiled trousers, setting them carefully on his robes so as to not make more of a mess in a room not his own. Lyrit gestured for a towel weakly, and with some amount of effort the Exarch handed one over, grabbed from its place on Lyrit's dresser. He couldn't help but laugh a very breathless laugh as he collapsed onto the bed next to Lyrit, a hint of embarrassment coloring his features as the au ra wiped himself clean.

"I thought myself too old for such demanding activities, but it seems my stamina is not as poor as I would have believed."

Lyrit snorted, discarding the towel lazily onto the floor somewhere and turning himself over to drag the Exarch closer to him, holding him tightly. This was...nice. Their skin touching so fully...he never truly knew how warm Lyrit was until now, but with a very contented hum the Exarch nuzzled the au ra's chest, nestling himself comfortably in his arms. One of Lyrit's hands lifted, carding gently through the crimson roots of the miqo'te's hair, making him nigh-on purr with delight, and the moments of threatening sleep that followed made him complacent in the thrum of his Warrior's heartbeat, in the enticing warmth of his body.

"Hmm. You weren't even touched, and yet--"

The red on the Exarch's face deepened near instantly, a cough sputtering from him as he tried to compose himself from the very sudden and unexpected comment rousing him from his lull.

"I-It has been many years since I've allowed myself to partake in such primal pleasures, I will have you know!" A sigh escaped him before his voice softened, a breath of a laugh ghosting from his lips against Lyrit's skin as the au ra once more softly chuckled in kind. "And, that besides, how could I not so easily succumb when you sang me such a wonderful song, when you looked at me in such ways?"

It was Lyrit's turn to blush, the faint catch of his breath and skip of his heartbeat telling the Exarch all he needed to know of the effectiveness of his comment. A contented hum from the Exarch followed, pleased with himself.

"Your allure may well be a weapon on its own, my dear Warrior."

He got no response to this, but he didn't need one. Before dreams took him, the Exarch placed a chaste kiss to Lyrit's chest, his breaths steady from the sweet embrace of sleep, and thought to himself that, perhaps, he should come to visit more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a couple months old now, and one of the first (and only) attempts at any kind of smut I've ever written, but there's a couple spots I enjoy and I figured I might as well share it sometime? Thanks for reading!


	6. Perhaps Inexperience is Charming?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet was written a couple of months ago, not long after the prior chapter, and is also my second, uh, real attempt at smut writing? Practice makes perfect, as they say. So here's the forewarning since it starts off like, right away!
> 
> ________________________________

“This is not entirely what I had-- ah!-- intended--”

Teeth, impatient and hungry, bit against crystal that had encased the flesh of the Exarch’s neck, choking any words that would have followed in his throat. Though the sensation in such places was different than skin, it was no less sensitive to things like pressure, and especially not to the spark that accompanied such touches. Lyrit was particularly gifted with attunement, and the crystal of his body was particularly susceptible to such magicks. Not without benefit, of course! It made things like this much more... _interesting_.

The distraction of the spark only made the surprise of Lyrit’s ravenous teeth against the still-remaining flesh of his throat all the more exhilarating, and the miqo’te could not catch the whimper that escaped his parted lips, could not stop the fierce curl of his fingers in Lyrit’s black hair, the slight, needy arch of his back. It only served to make Lyrit hum his approval, his roaming, greedy hand snaking its way up the Exarch’s light robes, worn in favor of his more decorated garb for the occasion. His stomach tensed under the faint scrape of nails, breath hitching involuntarily. Oh, oh how his Warrior made him so alight so easily, and as Lyrit’s teeth and lips and tongue trailed over the Exarch’s jawline, up his cheek, he chanced to tilt his head, to open his eyes and look.

It had been a mistake, he realized very quickly as a welling of heat rolled in his stomach, as his breath caught in his throat and he tensed. Lyrit’s eyes were open (half-lidded, but open nonetheless), their faint limbal glow catching the brighter blue of their center in a dazzling, nigh-ethereal display, and they were _**hungry**_. It was suffocating, almost, the pressure even just a look exerted, and it made the Exarch dizzy as he shook himself in vain from their hold. He could not look away, something in his gut told him in the back of his mind, for if he did, it was over. He was being hunted, and to lose sight of his hunter would be the end.

Or, so it would be, were it not Lyrit. The instinctual reaction faded after a few moments, and the Exarch sucked in a breath, desperate for air after holding it. Lyrit’s eyes betrayed the smile that formed against the Exarch’s cheek, and a low, soft chuckle resonated from his throat. 

“Full glad am I that I am not your foe,” the miqo’te began as his voice came back to him, stirring Lyrit from his pause at his temple. The au ra began then to kiss him in earnest, forceful but not overbearing (yet), affording the Exarch the opportunity to continue his comment between contact. “You are a rather...mmph...terrifying sight to behold...when you hold one in your sights like this.”

“Am I?” Lyrit’s response was simple, given almost no thought, which was to be expected. His mind was elsewhere, on the fingers he had slid back down to just above the trim of the Exarch’s pants, which, admittedly, was also where the Exarch’s mind was focused on. The sensation there, of the ghost of a touch, enough alone to cause his hips to twitch, his tail to thump madly. A soft growl, and the Exarch’s hands grabbed hold of Lyrit’s jaw, his cheeks, pulling him desperately into a kiss that returned the focus to higher places. He wanted to prolong this, selfish as that was and good as it felt.

And, perhaps, he was greedy for more taste, and feeling a little mischievous. The Exarch slid his tongue into Lyrit’s mouth, swallowing up the faint noises of surprise and pleasure that were breathed between them, and though this had truly not been a part of his intentions, it felt wonderful, especially so when both of Lyrit’s very hungry hands moved from their spots, shifting his weight, gripping the back of the Exarch’s thighs with a force that made him hiss. It caught him a little off-guard, but not nearly as much as the following movement, the lift of him to a more proper sitting position up against the headboard. The kisses did not stop.

“A-ah! What are you--?”

Their lips parted then, and with a smirk that could only be described as exhilarating, Lyrit slid his hands up and removed the loose-fitting robes all in one go, throwing them carelessly to the side. With this, they were both almost in the same state of undress, though only one article of clothing had been removed. The Exarch shivered slightly in the colder air of the room, but it was only brief as Lyrit’s warmth hit his skin and the small space between them closed with Lyrit’s lips against his collarbone, beginning their conquest of his unmarred flesh. Bites, bruising skin, mingled with softer kisses, brought the Exarch’s breaths ragged, his pulse racing, one hand grasping the pillows beneath him and the other tangled hopelessly in Lyrit’s hair once more. HIs eyes rolled closed, head laying back against the headboard, focus sharp on the path of Lyrit’s lips, until, suddenly, he felt thumbs in his waistband. Before he could react, pants and underwear both were yanked scandalously low, until the slight shift of the weight of Lyrit’s leg freed them entirely and they, too, joined only the Exarch’s clothes on the floor.

He was then very, very aware of how hard he was, the brief chill of the air making him shudder hopelessly with a groan before the warmth replaced it. He almost didn’t want to look, but he opened his eyes anyway, fixing Lyrit with a sheepish, but very heavy look, taking in a breath through parted lips-- but too late.

The gentle scrape of teeth against his head was the first thing he felt, and every single muscle in the Exarch’s body tensed as a very surprised, very shamefully loud gasp cut the brief instance of quiet in the room, rolling into a groan in time with the instinctual roll of his hips and the closing of his eyes as his head lay back once more. He hadn’t even realized he’d done it until after, as lips closed around him far lower than he’d last consciously felt, and the heat that rose to his cheeks matched that in his stomach. Fingers desperately pulled at Lyrit’s hair, the warmth almost too much, the soft feeling of Lyrit’s tongue against him, working him almost lazily and painfully, agonizingly slowly, causing his breaths to shallow and quicken.

What a mess he must’ve looked as his legs parted more, as he tried desperately not to thrust himself deeper into Lyrit’s mouth, the soft gasps and moans flowing freely from the Exarch’s open lips. His head rolled forward, and his eyes opened with no small amount of effort to watch Lyrit work, just in time to see the corners of his beloved Warrior’s mouth curl into a smile and his head to lift, the soft scrape of teeth against his length on the way up coercing an extraordinarily undignified groan from the Exarch. Before he could even fully process the action, Lyrit took him in again, and worked him once more before everything burst and he saw stars, and he was absolutely sure he must’ve tore some hair from Lyrit’s head with the grip he found himself having as he came back to.

_______________________________________

“H-hah...m-my apologies, my beloved, I--”

It was probably rude to keep interrupting the Exarch, but Lyrit was feeling particularly starved, and apologies were best served in any other context, so he swallowed the rest of his words like he had swallowed his release. He was being a little forceful, if the noise the Exarch made after their lips met again said anything, and he could tell the miqo’te was tired, but despite his age and complaints about being so old, he had far too much stamina. It’d be easy work to get him riled up again.

And so that’s what the au ra set about doing, hungrily kissing him and touching him, clawing at his sides and his hips and chest until the Exarch’s hands grasped for the back of his neck, tangling in his loose hair, pulling him closer. He could feel the need building again, kept a surprisingly close eye on it, and he was glad, because he had plans, and they involved the Exarch being willing to play along.

As the two parted for breath, gasping against one another, Lyrit made an effort to convey to his beloved Raha that he needed him, he needed him, and it was wholly true. The heat in his body, the pull against his clothes (if they could even be considered such), the desperation that began to really show itself in his touches, it all was getting to be too much, and it seemed that the Exarch realized this once he was given a moment to think. The understanding in his bright crimson eyes brought a turn to Lyrit’s stomach, eager and pleased in one.

“You really are incredible, you know that?”

“Hmm?”

“Someone so powerful, you could very easily wrest from me anything you desired, and instead you plead to me with your eyes. Were you to ask it, I believe there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, and still you light up when I move to give it.”

The Exarch’s voice, as exhausted and hoarse and ragged as it was, came fondly, and it made Lyrit’s heart skip a beat. He had the right of it: were Lyrit to want anything, he could very, very easily get it, but...it would be such a betrayal, and he wouldn’t dream to take advantage of anyone like that. Least of all Raha, the Exarch, the man he had come to love more than he could ever have imagined loving someone again. He laughed softly, unable to hide the longing heavy in his voice. Perhaps he could use his words to spur the miqo’te into action.

“I have said that I’m yours before, Raha. Though time passes, it doesn’t become less true.” 

The accompanying thought of how he would love nothing more than for the Exarch to do with him whatever he desired, to hold him and touch him and kiss him senseless, remained mostly stifled. At least, Lyrit attempted to hold it back, but the Exarch had grown used to Lyrit’s language, had figured out the trick in reading him, and though the onslaught of kisses began gentle and tender, they very quickly grew in intensity, very unexpectedly (but not unwelcomely), driving the au ra deeper in his need until he was the grasping, panting mess. It seemed the boyish vigor was still easy enough to bring to the fore, provided Lyrit suppressed his pressure a little. 

It was then, in the brief moment of panting, that Lyrit was surprised, not just by the confidence that brought the Exarch to move, but by his strength, even despite gravity being on his side. He flipped the two of them, pinning Lyrit to the bed by his shoulders as the miqo’te moved to straddle his waist, and the surprise of it, pleasant as it was, brought a gasp that caught in Lyrit’s throat, sent his heart fluttering, adrenaline pumping in a revitalized surge. His hips lifted, reminding the Exarch none-too-gently that they needed attention, and it made the miqo’te gasp at the sudden pressure. Lyrit too, if he were being honest, but he swallowed the noise that threatened to escape.

“Impatient, are we?” the Exarch cooed, to the best of his ability, and Lyrit commended his resolve.

“I have been here without attention yet, Raha.”

The Exarch hummed, peppering kisses to Lyrit’s cheeks where he could avoid the horns, his hands making short work of the tight shirt that lifted enough to expose Lyrit’s chest, greedily feeling every muscle, seeming to relish in the shifts in texture between skin and scale. Lyrit sighed, pleased, moving his body just enough with the Exarch’s wandering fingers. It felt wonderful, but it all did nothing for the almost-painful pressure between his legs, and at this point he was certain the Exarch knew this. He was being a tease. Absolutely on purpose.

Well, he didn’t mind it, actually.

But after hands wandered long enough, lips pressed kisses and left marks and ravaged enough exposed skin, Lyrit began getting far, far more desperate. More and more noises slipped, his breathing stayed hungry and ragged, and he couldn’t help the roll of his hips, the groans that tore from him in primal need. He was sure by this point the Exarch was bleeding in a few places where his grip had gotten a little overzealous, but he couldn’t be bothered to care now as his mind clouded and he pulled and pulled and tried so fervently to force Raha to do _something_. 

“ _ **Please.**_ ”

The plea that had kept itself quiet finally broke from Lyrit’s throat, desperation giving way, and it seemed to shatter any amount of composure the Exarch had been clinging to as he nigh-on growled, biting down at his place on Lyrit’s collar enough to bruise it almost immediately as he thrust his hands down to very, very easily remove the sad excuse for underwear Lyrit wore as outerwear, freeing him from the taut fabric in such a hurry that it caught Lyrit’s breath and choked whatever noise would have followed.

There was a pause, then, all of a sudden, and Lyrit, tense and frustrated as he was, shot the Exarch a look that might've been a little too intense. He toned it down quickly, especially after seeing the look on his face, the flush on his cheeks, the barely-held-together clarity in his eyes.

"Do you...have anything?"

It took a moment for Lyrit to process the question, a confused furrow to his brow before realization hit him, and he nodded his head toward the bedside desk, very unfortunately at the foot of the bed and not within reach. He'd have to do a little reorganizing of his room after this, a thought which was only solidified by the absence of much desired contact as the Exarch stood to fetch the lubricant...and. Prepared himself, on his return to the bed, as Lyrit finished kicking off his underwear.

That was a development Lyrit was not anticipating, though before he could ask anything at all, the Exarch's hands grabbed hold of his thighs, pushing them open and hoisting his hips up with the same surprising strength as before, though this time the Exarch paused once more.

" _ **Yes.**_ "

The sudden response, given before the miqo'te could even voice his question, caught him off-guard very obviously, but by this point Lyrit was practically throbbing with need and he wanted a release, just as much as he wanted to feel Raha against him, in him, even, and that desire was answered very quickly and very mutually. Their differences in size really were a blessing here, because Lyrit was absolutely certain that if any more time had to have been taken between then and this, he would've snapped. Thankfully he didn't need to, and instead sung out his appreciation, his praise, lifting his arms and grabbing hold desperately to the fabric of the pillows as the Exarch entered him fully, both of them panting, gasping, trembling. They stayed still for a moment, both of them adjusting to the new sensation, their new positions, before the Exarch let out a soft sound that was reminiscent almost of a breathy laugh, euphoric enough to rouse Lyrit to turn his chin with much effort to look at why.

The Exarch was smiling fondly at him, looking over his ragged body, bent and aching, scarred by innumerable battles and marked ravenously, with an expression that felt too kind for the positions the two were in. Lyrit almost said as much, but it seemed the start of a wry curl of one corner of his mouth said enough, and the Exarch pulled himself almost completely free before rolling back in, making Lyrit's head fall back to the pillows and a sharp inhale to follow. And then, again, he pulled almost free, painfully close, before thrusting far faster this time, hitting close enough to make Lyrit's vision blur and little stars dance against his eyelids. It felt...incredible, and the Exarch continued, eliciting more feverish cries of desperation, of his name, of sweet compliments and pleas, reciprocated in kind by the subject of such praises. He was so close, and with more effort than he cared to admit, Lyrit uncurled one of his hands from the sheets to take himself in it, pumping in time with the climaxing rhythm Raha had set until the little stars burned bright enough to blind and all of the pressure that had been so painfully built released, and though Lyrit could not see it, the Exarch followed him a second time not a few seconds after his own.

When the two settled, trembling and weak and ragged as they were, the Exarch pulled himself free, wincing only a little at the soreness and the mess. Lyrit couldn't help but laugh, breathless.

"I...really didn't think you had it in you, Raha."

The Exarch looked at him with adoration in his exhausted eyes, a smile on his lips as he set Lyrit's hips gently down on the bed once more.

"If I were being honest, neither did I. It seems you truly do stir the young soul within me. I...I admit, I am rather glad that you do. He was never allowed to pursue these sorts of things as long as most are able."

Lyrit felt something stir in his chest, and his brow furrowed, looking at the Exarch now with a little more concerned expression, though his exhaustion and contentment did remain at the fore.

"I-it isn't necessarily a regret, mind you! Simply an observation, and perhaps a testament to just how much I love you."

The furrow of his brow relaxed a bit at that, and Lyrit found himself smiling faintly again. He was glad, too: the last thing he needed was for the Exarch to make a comment about his prior plans again, now, after they had just had sex. He wasn't prepared to deal with that.

"You'll have to show me just how much you love me again sometime."


	7. Vulnerable (pt.1)

“You could have _**died!**_ ”

The Exarch’s ears fell flat, words of defense lost on his tongue as he held his lips closed. This outburst...was overdue, and it might have been foolish of him to have tested his limits so soon after everything. Crystalline hand raised to hold to the elbow of his still-skin arm, and bright crimson eyes turned downward, focusing on the pattern of deep blue against gold trim. Focusing anywhere but at the man who stood before him, still as a statue, muscles surely taught like a pressed coil, ready to spring at the slightest shift. The pressure coming from Lyrit’s place in the room was palpable, its heaviness almost sickening. Almost.

It had been foolish of him to try, even without knowing just _how_ upset Lyrit would be at his sudden collapse during an outing into the further reaches of Amh Areng. There had been hope, preparation, an attempt to charge himself, so to speak, so that perhaps he could share in a run through the Well to assist in clearing remaining sin eaters for the use of its mines once more. So he could fight alongside his beloved Warrior in a place he knew brought Lyrit some semblance of odd serenity. And yet, it had failed, as he knew deep down it would.

The gravity of Lyrit’s fury thankfully had been held marvelously in check until...well, now, when the two met after a short rest on his part. No one was any the wiser of the details of that day, as it had become somewhat commonplace very recently for people around the Crystarium to see Lyrit carrying him for short distances, but even that comfort escaped him as Lyrit’s well-practiced internalization wore thin and the truth of the weight of his anger bubbled forth, threatening to erupt as a volcano. This sort of-- hostility was the wrong word, but it was the closest that came to mind-- was something the Exarch had never experienced himself, nor read about in any of the excerpts about Lyrit from that failed timeline, and yet it bared its fangs here.

The Exarch had no idea what to do.

After a brief silence, the sound of one of Lyrit’s heels hitting the hard floor of the Ocular echoed through the room, making the Exarch involuntarily flinch. He couldn’t look up, fear pricking at the back of his neck, shame at himself for believing such a foolish plan would work coloring his cheeks. His crystal hand gripped tighter around his other arm. The pressure thickened, almost suffocating.

And then, the sharp breath Lyrit took betrayed the tears welling in his eyes, cut the heaviness lingering in the air like a knife and scattered it, and it was enough to snap the Exarch’s attention to him.

“For all that wisdom you picked up, you still act so recklessly.”

Another step forward. The Exarch couldn't move, couldn’t even release the grip he had on his arm. All he could do was stare, wide-eyed, as Lyrit slowly approached him, stray tears making their way over the grooves of the scales on his cheeks.

“I could have--” Lyrit stopped himself with a soft sound of displeasure, his gaze averted only for that moment before he locked eyes again. “What would you have done if I wasn’t there to carry you out?”

The look Lyrit had him fixed with left no room for excuses, and after a moment collecting himself, the Exarch cleared his throat, letting his gaze drop once more as his posture shifted just slightly. That initial comment, cut unfortunately short, lingered in his mind.

“I, very likely, wouldn’t have entered the Well in the first place were you not at my side. I regret to say it, for fear you may take blame for my reckless behavior, but I know I cannot lie to you.”

Silence. Thankfully, despite Lyrit’s eyes being as hot and piercing as ever, the air in the room had returned to a more breathable state. Being the target of Lyrit’s enmity was...unpleasant. Terrifying. The Exarch had never truly realized just how potent the aura of a dark knight could be when directed, and now, having felt even a fraction of it, he counted himself lucky. 

That thought, however, would not help the situation, and the Exarch chanced to refocus once more on Lyrit, who stood but a few steps away, fighting the upwelling of tears with fingers curled into fists and muscles tense. This was...wholly unfamiliar territory. Lyrit’s usual loose and readable body language when in the Ocular was now so contained, and, for the first time in a long time, the au ra felt...untouchable. Distant. It brought a pang of hurt to the Exarch’s chest, and with some amount of careful effort, he stepped forward, reaching up to gently, tentatively thumb over the upper scales on Lyrit’s cheek, taking with his motion some of the dampness that pooled over his eyelashes. The act made Lyrit take in a trembling breath, and his eyes moved to the Exarch, the proximity revealing such a potent pain that the miqo’te nearly reeled back.

“Lyrit, I--”

“I could have lost you.”

So that _was_ what he kept himself from saying aloud before. The Exarch’s hand faltered with his eyes, falling to where his other hand rested just before his chest. The boons of the Tower came with a cost, and the price was...this. Being bound to a place, leashed, unable to break free and soar the winds with the man he admired more than anything. And yet, had he not accepted this consequence...Lyrit would be dead, and the world doomed to a calamity of untold proportions. Wringing his hands softly together, the Exarch remained quiet, lost in his thoughts, unable to think of the right thing to say, the okay thing to ask, the best way to apologize. All of this...it was all so _frustrating_.

The Exarch took a pause, a deep breath, before finally his voice found the confidence to speak.

"I...suppose I owe you yet another apology then, for being so careless--"

The sound that came from Lyrit's throat, strangled though it had tried to be, startled the miqo'te mid-sentence into looking very quickly back up, only to see fury in Lyrit's eyes blazing brighter than lightning. It took all the Exarch had not to falter back from the initial shock, but upon looking for longer, the depth of the overwhelming grief hit him, and silenced him once more. This was...not a look he ever wanted to see on his beloved Warrior's face or in his bright eyes ever again.

"An apology wouldn't fix it. An apology wouldn't bring you back if the worst passed."

It took much effort for Lyrit to speak without raising his voice, the Exarch noted (and he was thankful), and in this effort to not break, Lyrit's guard fell. This revealed to the Exarch one major detail: Lyrit's typically calm soul was _laden_ with grief, and it seemed to run far too deep to simply be about the few times the Exarch had nearly died. Unpleasant though this revelation was, it unearthed a new layer of curiosity, a part of Lyrit the Exarch wasn't sure if anyone knew.

Perhaps this revelation would be the very thing to help.

"...this is not just about my unfortunate mishap, 'twould seem."

Lyrit tensed at that, seeming to fight the urge to fight or flee, rooted in his place. Though he was moments away from potential disaster, the Exarch took the reaction as an encouragement, standing firm as he unfolded his hands to reach for Lyrit's, gently opening his curled fingers with surprisingly little resistance. Another good sign.

"'Tis perhaps not my place to ask of you to divulge such secrets, with how much I have withheld from you previously, but...your grief is not a burden you must carry alone."

The flash of...it was unidentifiable, but whatever it was, it sent a surge of adrenaline through the miqo'te, his body's instincts preparing him for the worst. And then...the worst didn't come, and the first sound to break the silence was a choked whimper, hands holding tighter, the tension in the au ra's body falling lax finally as all of his practiced restraint failed. The Warrior of Darkness faltered, tears falling forth without restraint, his beautiful, melodious voice broken by sobs. The Exarch felt the weight shift against his palms and took a step back, using what strength he could muster to help Lyrit to his knees. Fortunately, this put the two of them at an almost-similar height, and the Exarch used this to pull Lyrit against him, letting him cry shamelessly into the fabric over his chest.

After a few moments, Lyrit’s arms lifted to the Exarch’s back, fingers grasping the robes tightly, holding on as if, were he to let go, it would all disappear. It...hurt to see someone so strong brought so low, overcome with the weight of a grief accumulated over years of being the hero he had become, experiencing death beyond measure. The thought made the miqo’te’s grip tighten, compelled him to pull Lyrit in a little closer, to lower his head and bury his face against Lyrit’s hair. He could feel tears of his own in his throat, but swallowed the threat. This was not the time to be emotional himself.

“...if only I had realized sooner how this would have affected you,” came the Exarch’s voice, barely a whisper against silken hair. “I cannot express enough how sorry I am, though I know an apology will not remedy the pain, nor change what has already come to pass.”

Lyrit, still unable to speak, settled for slowly shaking his head against the Exarch’s chest, breaths heavy from the tears that had slowed but continued to flow. His voice having not yet returned, the Exarch continued, unmoving in his place.

“My beloved Warrior, you are far too selfless to shoulder the burdens you carry alone. A great many people care for you, want to see you succeed as you shape the world with every word you speak. I can continue to count myself among that many because of your compassion and strength, and I would return such a kindness as you’ve shown me in any way I am capable.”

“Then live.”

Lyrit’s response came hoarsely, forced from a throat no doubt tight from crying, and despite the Exarch’s still-firm hold, the au ra pulled himself back enough to look up the small distance he needed to meet the Exarch’s gaze. His eyes, stained with tears though they were, burned with a resolve that was only dampened by the lingering sorrow that had not yet passed. It made the miqo’te’s heart skip a beat.

“I...I found my husband’s wedding ring on my desk, one day, without a word. Without warning. I fought a war for the country that killed my mother. I’ve watched people die for a title...for a weapon. Friends. Loved ones. I--”

Lyrit took a deep, shuddering breath, steeling himself in the curl of his fingers, in the solidness of the Exarch’s form. Vulnerable. He was so, so very vulnerable, and the Exarch stood, patient, knowing that Lyrit was not yet done.

“...I don’t want people to die for me, anymore. I want people to _live_. I want _**you**_ to live.”

The Exarch was struck speechless, even despite his patience. Such...raw honesty, open emotion, was quite a lot to take in, even with summaries as its execution. It was not an unfamiliar feeling that Lyrit expressed, the Exarch himself having known the weight of loss over the many years once he had been awoken, but it all felt so pale in comparison to the weight of a mantle such as Warrior of Light. The champion of Hydaelyn, hero of Eorzea, weapon of light...many and more titles adorned the one man before him, many and more hopes layered upon his shoulders. Hopes not from just one world, anymore, but two, whose people prayed for their Warrior to grant them salvation from threats thought undefeatable. It…was an impossible weight he carried, and an incredible act of trust to show such honesty in an act that could be seen as a weakness.

The Exarch’s hands lifted, cupping Lyrit’s cheeks with a gentleness that the au ra couldn’t help but lean into. Bright crimson eyes softened from their shock, open in the empathic sorrow and overflowing adoration that welled in the miqo’te’s stomach.

“I could not very well deny you such a request, my dear Warrior.”

With this said, the au ra’s eyes closed, a breath of relief escaping through his nose as he leaned back forward, resting his forehead against the Exarch’s chest. A soft, somber smile came to the Exarch’s lips as his fingers carded gently through Lyrit’s hair, thoughts swirling, unfocused. Too many things had been brought to the fore, memories new and old, information previously unknown. It caused a silence to permeate the air, quiet aside from the ambient hum of the tower and the breaths from Lyrit attempting to recover from crying.

There would be other times to ask questions. For now, the weight was heavy enough, and the Exarch was content to play his part as the support Lyrit needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't, for the life of me, come up with a better way to end this without making it feel too stretched, and the lack of ideas was hitting me suuuper hard. But I wanted to share it even if it isn't my most favorite piece, because it's an important milestone in Lyrit's character!
> 
> Thank you again for reading!!


	8. Morning

Mornings were the only time of the day that Lyrit truly allowed himself to be free from his self-imposed mask. Something about the privacy the pale light afforded, the quiet stillness, the dew lingering from the sanctuary of night. It was easy to awake unguarded when the air was so peaceful, alone aside from the warm body curled beside him, slumbering for what was likely the first time in days. The expression the Exarch wore was endearing, unassuming. One would not label him as a leader of people if they saw his parted lips, hands curled into loose fists against the fabric of the pillows on Lyrit’s bed, hair fanned out over his face. Lyrit counted himself lucky to be one of, what he assumed was, few people to see this.

It was so... _human_.

Something about that fact held him. To be trusted to share in such a vulnerable moment, despite his titles, despite his penchant for hiding, despite the blood on his hands, meant more to him than anything. For some reason.

Vivid teal eyes looked over the Exarch’s form, half-uncovered by the sheets, light shimmering over the crystal that had taken over the miqo’te’s right arm. He was beautiful. It was the first thought that came to mind, accompanied by a smile so warm, so enraptured, it would’ve likely looked foreign to anyone observing. Lyrit found himself then brushing the Exarch’s unruly hair from his face, gentle so as not to disturb him, before pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his temple. A quiet noise came from the Exarch’s throat, smile curling his lips as his body shifted, arms stretching, fingers uncurling.

Lyrit stayed just far enough from the Exarch so as not to disrupt his stretch, watching him with fondness as he resituated himself, turning onto his back. Bright crimson eyes fluttered open slowly, sleep still weighing heavy in them as he lifted his hand to Lyrit’s cheek, thumbing over the scales beneath his eyes.

“Mm...I had hoped to awake before you, but it seems I will simply have to try harder.”

A breath of a chuckle escaped Lyrit’s nose as he leaned into the Exarch’s touch, eyes closing contentedly.

“And rob me of my time to stare?”

“‘Twould be used for similar purpose, I assure you. ‘Tis rare I’m afforded time to admire you looking so peaceful, which I do consider a loss.”

Lyrit’s eyes opened only to roll dramatically, though the upturn of his lips conveyed all it needed to confirm that it was theatrics. The Exarch chuckled softly, fingers brushing up to gently tuck Lyrit’s bangs around the base of his horn, smile only growing wider. The au ra couldn’t help but laugh along, though his heart swelled at the act. Indirectly complimented so casually, touched so chastely, so carefully...it wasn’t often the Exarch was so bold, nor was it often that Lyrit felt worthy of such soft intimacy, but of late, the two had become more comfortable, the Exarch allowing his words and actions to more honestly convey his feelings. 

Needless to say, such acts were doing their number on Lyrit’s heart.

Their foreheads met, Lyrit lowering himself gently, propped up on one arm. The room was quiet then, for a few moments, and Lyrit kept his free hand busy combing through the graying locks of red hair laying heavily around the Exarch’s face, a hum beginning in his throat. It was a familiar song, one he had hummed to the Exarch before; a song he had collaborated on with a friend, only to be sung in the company of those you love. The melodious tones replaced the ambient noise of distant bird chirps, bringing a new smile to the Exarch’s lips as he listened intently, fingertips tracing the outline of scales.

The two of them stayed like that until Lyrit began to slow the song down, reaching its end. The Exarch took this chance to speak.

“I know not what your obligations are today, my Warrior, but would you be opposed to staying in bed with me for a short while longer…?”

Eyes opened, met, and within them Lyrit conveyed his willingness to stay like this for as long as the Exarch wished. It was a very mutual feeling, after all. Respective titles and obligations sometimes weighed too heavy on weary shoulders, and the point of contact between their foreheads was more steadying than it had any right to be, breaths warm between them, sunlight a comforting presence on exposed skin. For this moment, in this place, the two of them existed without burden, one in a universe within the walls of this room.

Perhaps that was why he liked mornings so much, Lyrit thought to himself as the Exarch tilted his head to press their lips together, hand gentle beneath Lyrit’s chin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very, very short, but I rolled a random prompt for forehead touch/kiss, and I wanted to do something short and sweet between chapter updates for Philautia's AU. Plus, it brings in hints of one of Lyrit's major issues that might get talked about later!
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading!


	9. Solace in Song

The treetops of Lakeland carried on them the breeze, flowing between jagged cliffs and carrying pastel leaves through the dark. During the day, the lands here were a sight to behold, but with the return of the moon to the skies, their lavender hues became a breathtaking backdrop for all who ventured the roads, and for the sleepless adventurers--heroes--who found solace in the gentle lapping of waves on the shore below, in the quiet rustle of the wind. It was on a distant cliff that one such hero found himself, standing on the edge of ruins from an era long past, gazing out over the sea shimmering under pale light and rippling under raindrops. The Crystarium’s glow lit up the eastern sky, a beacon, a reminder of the people on this shard who this hero had come to call his kin. They were a steady people, having gone through so much, with an end in their grasp but a future of uncertainties within the selfsame reach.

It seemed he had a penchant for caring more for the people who shared fates like this, as the thought brought an image of Doma and her people to the fore.

It wasn’t often Lyrit was afforded time like this, tranquil moments to reflect on the things that had come to pass. More often than not these moments were the calm before the storm, tense with uncertainty and the threat of loss, and, up until now, laden with grief and sorrow and pain. This night, even so shortly after their victory in the simulacrum of an ancient city lost to time and memory, was the first that Lyrit felt himself freed from worry. It was true that events on the Source were a cause of concern, but in capable hands, and for tonight the au ra afforded himself respite, a break from the mantle of hero, here where no one else ventured, in the familiar static of a storm.

It was only in solitude that heroes of such weighted deeds could truly be human.

After a moment, Lyrit’s voice picked up, quiet at first. A song of victory, of strength, filled with joy and relief, came from his lips, and as the words rang out over the sea, carried through the sky under rolling clouds, the world around him shifted. The waves became a reply, surging through his veins as strength. The wind became a reminder, gentle and kind as it caressed his face. The rain became an anchor, rolling over skin and scales and dripping from fingertips. As lightning flashed and thunder rolled, his voice grew louder, bolder, his emotions spilling forth in the form of melodies known by heart, songs learned from people who had taken their time to understand. A song from his mother, a song from his father, a song from the dragons of Zenith. Doma, Ala Mhigo, songs taught by his closest friend. The weight of the words caught in his throat a few times, tears welling and spilling as the rain continued its comforting presence, but as Lyrit sang on, his heart felt lighter, and the smile that curled the corners of his mouth never faded.

It was liberating, singing his heart out to the thunderous sky, feeling the static of the lightning prick his skin and swell his voice.

As his song finished, a soft clapping reached him, and Lyrit looked over his shoulder towards the noise, breaths heavy. Even despite the unexpected sound, Lyrit remained surprisingly relaxed, something his visitor noted as he stepped forward from beneath the partial roof he had chosen to loiter under.

“Forgive me my intrusion. I could not help but to pursue the beautiful voice I chanced to hear carrying over the storm as I was on my search for someone.”

There was a brief pause before the au ra lifted his head and turned, a soft smile of recognition on his face and in his eyes, bright in the dark of the night.

“They say if you hear a distant song not to approach it, you know.”

The visitor chuckled. “I’m full aware of the dangers sirens pose, though I must admit that this one is one I would not mind falling victim to.”

Lyrit’s mouth remained as a smile, though the shift of his hip and the hand placed conveyed the _‘brave words to say’_ that his voice did not. It only served to embolden his new companion, who waited patiently under the cover of the ruins.

“Besides, I would liken you to a deity before a siren. Perhaps a god of storms, or of the moon. You do have an affinity for both things beyond what most would dream to achieve.”

This brought a laugh to Lyrit’s throat, and a shake of his head that said _‘flattery won’t get you anywhere.’_ The visitor simply shrugged, the small smile that had accented his lips widening a little as Lyrit began walking closer.

“If you mean to criticize my method, you will do well to know that flattery can get you a great many places. For instance, at this moment, my beloved walks to me of his own accord so I need not soak myself in the rain. Perhaps ‘tisn’t due to flattery, but I’d like to believe it holds some sway.”

Lyrit’s long strides closed the distance between the two fairly timely, his body soaked and clothes sopping wet as he stepped into the shelter of the remaining roof, being sure to drip as much of the excess water onto the shorter man as he could. This was met with only a little resistance in the form of a good-natured yelp, followed quickly by soft laughter.

“A-aha! My dearest Warrior,” the miqo’te began as the man in question raised his damp hands to gently brush over his cheeks, lowering his hood to reveal bright crimson eyes and an adoring grin. “After all the pains I went through to keep myself dry and anonymous. The charade is up!”

An amused lift of Lyrit’s brow accompanied his gentle, good-natured scoff, his thumbs brushing the Exarch’s cheeks, fingers cupping his chin and tilting his head up. The question of why the Exarch came, and how he found him, lingered in Lyrit’s eyes, bringing a temporarily mischievous tone to the miqo’te’s smile.

“It wasn’t much a charade, I admit. My acting skills were never a source of envy among my peers. Regardless, I...well…”

The Exarch’s voice trailed off, following his gaze out over the water, watching a bolt of lightning dance through the sky. Thunder rolled, and the Exarch lifted his hands to hold Lyrit’s against his face, leaning into one palm and letting his eyes fall closed. A soft, content sigh escaped his nose. There was really no reason in particular he had sought Lyrit out, initially, though upon learning that the Warrior of Darkness was not in his chambers after hearing of his arrival, concern had budded in the pit of his stomach. Of late, whenever Lyrit would return to the Crystarium, he would make certain to stop by the Ocular, and though he was under no obligation to continue, part of the Exarch was...worried. It felt a little shameful to have acted on such a selfish impulse, and yet his feet had carried him here, to where Lyrit had escaped to, uninvited.

The quiet lingered between them for a few moments longer before Lyrit spoke, pulling the Exarch’s attention back up to his lips, his eyes. Of course Lyrit had read into his thoughts so easily.

“You’re not an unwelcome visitor.”

“I would hope not, though it does my heart good to hear it. I just...simply could not turn away when I heard your songs upon the wind. It’s rare enough that anyone is afforded the honor of hearing your voice, but your songs were...magnificent.”

The unspoken thanks was to be expected, and the Exarch simply nodded after a moment. The kiss, however, that quickly followed, was not expected, and a small noise of surprise caught between the two. Stray sections of Lyrit’s damp hair tickled the Exarch’s nose and forehead, dripping rainwater onto his skin, but something about it was...charming. Comforting, almost. To feel his beloved against him in any amount, soaked to the bone from the selfsame storm that continued all around them, was a comfort, a reminder that this wasn’t a dream to haunt his waking moments until Lyrit returned again. It was real, and a little cliche, and it brought a giddy laugh to his throat. 

“You’re reacting like this is the first time I’ve kissed you, Raha,” Lyrit mumbled against the miqo’te’s lips, though the smile on his own gave away his amusement.

“Forgive me, I’m simply overjoyed. Your choice in music was inspiring of happiness, to say the least. I will have to ask you to sing for me more often.”

“I think I could do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short, but I couldn't keep the thought of Lyrit singing his heart out from my head, so I decided to try actually doing something with it!
> 
> There's a song that helped inspire that particular idea, not exactly this context, but the other day a friend prompted us asking if we had a HC voice for our respective WoLs and I ended up discovering this cover. It's really good and kind of fits how I envision Lyrit sounding as he sings!
> 
> [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sXV9VfgUaSA&list=PLEQuoTClOooswY1qHEgFEB3ch5-OrDNIu&index=42&t=0s ]


	10. Things We Can Ill Afford to Lose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is really short, but i wanted to write a little something after replaying the Holminster Switch...mr. exarch really said that huh?
> 
> thanks again for reading! it means so much! <3
> 
> _____________

“Do you remember the first Lightwarden?”

Lyrit’s voice, quiet though it be, breaks the gentle hum of the room’s air between the flipping of pages. The Exarch stirs a little, his ears flicking and a hum of inquiry sounding from his throat despite his eyes not moving from their course, the passage of the tome in his hand too enrapturing to lure his full focus away. Lyrit rolls his eyes, but doesn’t move. Yet.

“A lot happened at the Switch. It was the first I’d seen your abilities in action. The first I’d experienced your plight.”

Another hum, the Exarch still refusing to tear his focus away from the words before him. Lyrit shifts, careful to make no sound.

“‘Tis true, though I admit to have kept hope that I could share a battlefield with you for...quite some time. Ever since Cid refused my pleas to assist in clearing the Tower.”

There’s a pause, the Exarch flipping to the next page. A thoughtful hum escapes him, and his lips purse as his brow furrows.

“...much as I enjoy reminiscing, I’m failing to see where this is going, my Warrior--”

“‘How long have I waited for this moment…’”

Warmth is suddenly upon him, against his back, but before he can move or react, Lyrit’s song of a voice is in his ear, breath ghosting over his russet fur. Perhaps this is why sailors died so frequently to sirens in myth…

“‘For _**you.**_ ’”

The mimicry of his inflection from what feels like an eternity ago sends a shiver down the miqo’te’s spine, heat welling in his stomach and rising fast to his cheeks as his hands falter. Lyrit catches the book the Exarch had been holding with ease, an impish smile on his lips as the miqo’te stammers before turning his head enough to make eye contact with his assailant, who looks positively smug. The Exarch coughs. _Damn_ him.

“Y-you remember that? After all that has transpired..? Gods...did I truly sound so…?”

The au ra’s eyes convey that, yes, he did indeed sound so, and the Exarch’s cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red as his gaze averts, hands quick to reacquaint themselves with the book Lyrit had so generously kept from falling to the floor. He busies himself with tucking the bookmark in place, letting the quiet sink in until Lyrit speaks up once more, his voice softer and more endeared.

“If it helps, I could tell you were devoted, but it didn’t hit ‘til recently that it was like this.” He gestures vaguely with a tilt of his chin, but the Exarch understands. Their proximity, the faint touch of Lyrit’s horn and jaw against the top of his head, the press of Lyrit’s shoulder against his back. He can’t help the smile that comes, nor the laugh that bubbles up from his throat, let out softly through his nose.

“I shall count that a blessing, then, that you were so uncharacteristically dense. ‘Twould have made my failed plan to take the light into the rift and perish much harder were you to have known my heart so openly from so early on.”

“You did basically confess on the cliff in Kholusia, though.”

The Exarch chuckles, shaking his head.

“Thankfully by that time I had accepted the consequence of my plan, and the fate that I had chosen. Though it was no less difficult to enact, especially after you so generously made it apparent that you knew who I was from the start.”

His voice comes in a tone that’s chastising, but the relief and warmth beneath overshadow it quickly. Lyrit presses a kiss to the crown of the Exarch’s head, then another, and another, until he’s made his way to the miqo’te’s cheek. The Exarch can’t help but smile wider until Lyrit’s lips press to the corner of his mouth, where he turns to meet his beloved, letting the book forgotten in his hands fall as his fingers comb gently through the bangs over Lyrit’s cheeks, holding him in place. The au ra doesn’t protest in the slightest.

“Perhaps, though, it was for the best.”

The Exarch speaks against Lyrit’s lips, and Lyrit only smiles, humming his agreement.

“It did take you quite a while to make it known to me that my feelings were requited, but that moment would have made my brief time in the rift much more fulfilling…”

“And would have given you more regrets.”

Lyrit speaks quickly, shutting down the train of thought the Exarch had started before it truly began. The phrase ‘there are things which we can ill afford to lose’ lingers in the air, a thought unspoken by both parties, but felt between them. Its sentiments are mutual. Lyrit, however, doesn’t let the mood turn somber despite this, and instead opts to plant a final kiss to the Exarch’s lips before leaning back a short ways, grinning. 

“Besides, you have no place to say it took me a long time to confess. You would’ve been content to keep quiet forever.”

The Exarch’s eyes widen, his tail stiffening in the middle of a lazy, contented flick.

“Th-that’s not entirely true, beloved, and you know it!”

An eyebrow raises, bemused smirk curling on Lyrit’s lips, and the Exarch stammers, an indignant breath coming from his nose. His tail begins to flick again, one of his hands moving from its place on Lyrit’s cheek to rest at the Exarch’s side.

“...alright, alright! I concede that I...may have avoided bringing up the entire truth in regards to the depth of my feelings for you…”

He needs to say no more, as Lyrit’s laugh rings through the room, good-natured and happy, and the Exarch can’t bring himself to continue arguing his case. A defeated but endeared smile comes to him as he sighs, his heart swelling with joy as he takes in Lyrit’s laugh, until his own comes forth in response, and the two are pressed close once again to enjoy one another’s company. They are content, in this moment, for this time, and they settle for that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! We all need to be a little self-indulgent from time to time, and who better to push us to do so than the Exarch?


End file.
